Tell Me No Stories
by The Phoenix Collective
Summary: AU. Takao was the last member of the royal family that ran free, until he was captured. Now he's stuck as someone's personal servant. The road to freedom isn't always what it seems to be.
1. Chapter 1

It was the sound of countless heavy-footed men that drove Takao from his dreams. The banging came next and caused him to jump from the bed he had been given. He half believed it to be a nightmare of the previous day, but he knew better.

They told him if the enemy came, to hide under the bed. To make sure they could not find him. But he wanted to fight and protect his friends.

It was a small house, home to a modest family. So the second he stepped out of the room, he caught sight of the painted armor that tore his world apart. It took them less than a heartbeat to catch sight of him.

They shoved Hiromi's father aside and he was vaguely aware of the man shouting for him to run. He was tired of running, tired of hiding. If they wanted him so bad, there he was. But they were in for a fight.

Three, maybe four, men poured into the small room. Swords and spears were aimed at him, just a boy who did no one wrong. Funny how things ended up that way.

The first man lunged at him and suddenly it was as if his body was no heavier than a feather. His head bumped the ceiling, the winds he commanded keeping him just above the soldiers. It would do no good to stay inside, however, and he made a break for the door.

His feet touched against the shoulder of one soldier. The man grabbed for his leg and pulled him back down. Takao landed on his hands, yanked his leg free and flipped back to his feet with a severe lack of grace.

He was outnumbered and in too small a space. Things were desperate. He was not about to surrender, not to these people. Not after all they had done.  
The soldiers did not lunge at him. Instead, they waited and watched. There was nothing else he could do, save for this last thing.

He urged the wind faster and pulled it in around himself, his eyes shut tight. Over the noise of the small tornado he had created, he could hear the clink of armor and people shouting. He took a deep breath and pressed outward with the wind's force. It drained him and made his body feel heavy, but with any luck, it would get them to leave him alone.

His legs fell out from under him and he crumpled up on the floor. A moment later, his head fell. The last thing he heard was heavy footsteps on a wood floor.

* * *

The next time he opened his eyes, he saw nothing but the inside of a sack. He twisted and tugged his arms to try and free them from the chains that bound him, but to no avail. He tossed his head until the sack finally came off. It was a minor victory, but a victory all the same.

Takao found himself in the back of a cart, of all placed to be. He recognized nothing around him except the men in armor. It was not the armor he familiarized with, but armor he still, regrettably, recognized.

There were others in the cart with him, each with a sack over their heads. He groaned and threw his head back to stare at the sky. He could escape, but how far would he get? His wrists and ankles were bound by chains, not ropes, and that made all the difference.

The sky was clear today, too. If he just shot into the air, would they ever be able to get him back down? He could soar for days and days and get so far away from this nightmare.

But then what about his friends and family?

His hands clenched into fists and he tugged at the chains again, as if his new found anger would give him the strength to rip them apart. It was an absent hope and he knew better. In the end, it just left more pain in his wrists.

Then he tried something else.

The upward blast shook the cart, but managed to blow the sacks away. One even landed on the head of a soldier, which made Takao laugh. The other prisoners all took in their surroundings, some of them resigned and others horrified.

It made him a little sad, but incredibly relieved, to see he knew none of them.

After that, he used the wind to turn and twist the cart. The cart driver struggled to keep everything together and the prisoners all screamed. Then, with one heavy gust, it fell over. People fell on top of each other in tangled messes and the soldiers that guarded them were in a frenzied disarray.

Now was his chance.

Or so he thought. One soldier, one he recognized from Hiromi's house, grabbed his hair and pulled him free from the mess. If he weren't in so much armor, he would have head butted him.

"You've just got to cause more trouble than you're worth." The man sneered. "The prince is going to hate his grandfather for you."

Before Takao could even begin to ask what he meant, he was hit over the head by a heavy hand.


	2. Chapter 2

Everything was dark again when Takao opened his eyes. He could hear people walking around, many of them in armor that clanked with each step. Some people spoke, but their voices were muffled.

Someone grabbed his arm and helped him down from the cart. He considered a repeat performance of before, then decided against it. He had no idea how many soldiers or guards were there now.

The person who held his arm led him further away from the cart. His fate waited for him wherever he was about to be taken. That was an unsettling thought.

"This really him?" Someone asked. He felt someone tug at his arm and he yanked it back. "Take off the hood."

"You don't want me to do that." Someone else said. He assumed this one was the one who had a grip on his arm. "He's a fighter."

"Aren't they all?" The other man laughed. Takao balled his hands into fists. "Take him upstairs. He'll get sorted with the rest."

Sorted with the rest? What did he mean by sorted? How many others did they have? His stomach twisted into a knot.

He was led down what he assumed was a hallway, his footsteps echoing on the floor. His guide's footsteps were much louder and heavier, in part thanks to his armor. It was hard not to be noisy in armor, after all. The clang of the metal accompanied by boots against stone made for an awkward theme to listen to on his way to wherever.

The odd part, he decided, was the significant lack of other people. No other footsteps joined them, no voices came down the hall. It was almost like it was dead.  
His guide nudged him to get him to go up the stairs. Still no one else. If he wanted to act, now was the time.

Halfway up the stairs, he threw himself into the man. He shouted in surprise and fell against something, then over it. He and Takao crashed to the floor. His grip on Takao, however, diminished.

He tried to run.

"Keep him alive!" Someone shouted. He didn't know who, let alone care. All he knew was he had to escape.

The wind around him picked up until he was sure he created a small tornado around himself. No one could touch him like this. Elation at the prospect of escape filled him. Even if he had no home to go to, anything would be better than whatever they had planned. It had to be.

His feet stopped touching the ground and he tried to manipulate the wind to take off his blindfold. It came loose and vanished in the swirling winds. A minor victory at best.

The hall was incredibly tall. He realized all too late that he could land on the second floor, and in a lot of trouble. Red armor, lances and swords were focused on him, along with every eye.

Well, if he was already in trouble…

He tugged and pulled at the chains around his wrists, then raised his arms and moved his hands so they were in front of him. They weren't quite free, but he could work with this. He let the wind slow down and his feet touched the floor.

They fell on him in an instant. And in the very next beat, they were sent back into the walls. Weapons and bodies went flying with a chorus of metallic clanging and agonized shouts.

Takao ran for the door. It seemed so close, but so far and guarded. He had enough energy to break through, he was sure. But beyond that? He had to hope for the best. Whatever the best was at this point.

He jumped and sent another gust of wind against the guards at the door on his landing. His feet slammed into the hard floor and he fell to his knees. This was no time to rest. He forced himself to his feet and scrambled for the door.

Just beyond those big, open doors he could see a cloudy sky. People frozen in place, other prisoners like him, the cart that brought him there. The only safe place was the sky.

_Just a little more!_ If he could make it far enough for them to lose sight of him, he could rest. Just for a little while.

Something slammed into his back and sent him sprawling on the floor. In some, sick twist of fate, his hand came to fall just beyond the doorway. He tried to get to his feet, but a heavy boot shoved his head back down.

"And where do you think you're running off to?"


End file.
